


Ghosts? In my haunted desert? It's more likely than you think

by CertifiedPissWizard



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, Will the ghosts kill him? no because hes their child now, alsdkfjawelsdgqwa, i would say spoilers but given the collection its in, mando ghost holding a gun: oh? oh? youre talking about quigon jinn? hate to break it to you, obi-wan: i am very tired and would like a nap, obi-wan: you know that feeling when mando ghosts decide youre baby, satine: no they barely tolerate me and besides dont you have a dad
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-14
Updated: 2020-09-14
Packaged: 2021-03-06 20:42:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,439
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26455075
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CertifiedPissWizard/pseuds/CertifiedPissWizard
Summary: Satine said that the area they were skirting around the edges was haunted, a patch of desert that nobody goes into for fear of seeing ghosts that would keep them trapped in the area, running around in circles for ages, because according to the ghosts they weren’t Mandalorian enough. Obi-Wan, quite reasonably- pointed out that that couldn’t possibly be true, given as how people had clearly gotten out to spread stories of ghosts haunting them to the point of getting horribly lost. He didn’t mention that if stories of Mandalorian ghosts killing people- the sort of folklore and legend that the New Mandalorians thought barbaric and worthy of purging- was even considered to be true by Satine of all people, then there’s no possible way that Death Watch would even consider following them into the patch of desert. It would be the safest choice for them. What he said instead was that he was a Jedi and could easily protect her from any sort of ghosts.or:Mandalorian ghosts see child with swords, adopt child, nobody is surprised. More breaking news at ten!
Comments: 37
Kudos: 518
Collections: Punch Qui-Gon and Adopt Obi-Wan





	1. Chapter 1

Satine said that the area they were skirting around the edges was haunted, a patch of desert that nobody goes into for fear of seeing ghosts that would keep them trapped in the area, running around in circles for ages, because according to the ghosts they weren’t Mandalorian enough. Obi-Wan, quite reasonably- pointed out that that couldn’t possibly be true, given as how people had clearly gotten out to spread stories of ghosts haunting them to the point of getting horribly lost. He didn’t mention that if stories of Mandalorian ghosts killing people- the sort of folklore and legend that the New Mandalorians thought barbaric and worthy of purging- was even considered to be true by Satine of all people, then there’s no possible way that Death Watch would even consider following them into the patch of desert. It would be the safest choice for them. What he said instead was that he was a Jedi and could easily protect her from any sort of ghosts. He may have been a bit sarcastic and received a lecture over it in the end, but his point was accepted. They were cutting through the ‘haunted’ desert. He just hoped there were easy places to take shelter from the freezing cold nights and occasional sandstorms that tended to plague Mandalore.

There wasn’t really noticeably different beyond the low, nearly buried, barriers around the patch of more endless sand. Obi-Wan was starting to hate sand. The day they crossed over the borders was hot and bright and hungry, just as most of the days before that had been. The desert was empty, nobody was following, and Satine complained about how he had used lethal force the last time Death Watch caught up to them. She hadn’t been that bad months ago- she’d talked about Mandalorian culture and how it would be changed, but for the better. She would speak occasionally about the Mandalorian gods and Mando’a, but he supposed she’d become radicalized by having to keep running from Death Watch. If he’d been starting out from that view point, he’d likely have faced the same given the things he had to listen to and do when he would try and get information out of Death Watch, to see if they realized just how close they were to him and Satine. As it was, while he couldn’t deny Mando’a was a beautiful language, he couldn’t imagine ever choosing to speak it on a regular basis. The things he had done and seen done while speaking Mando’a to try and protect himself and Satine- it had poisoned the bits he knew of the language for him. That didn’t mean that he thought that it deserved to die out, though- a fact he made clear in the regular verbal sparring matches he and Satine engaged in so often.

She said they passed that sand dune before. Obi-Wan wanted to scream. Sand dunes all looked like that and given the winds on the planet the shapes kept changing. The idea of using a sand dune that looked like every other sand dune as a landmark? Kriffing absurd. It was a blatant abuse of all of his Jedi training to turn that serenity into not snapping that at her. At least he was getting good practice releasing his emotions into the force.

The day seemed to go on forever, and when night fell it was almost endlessly dark. They’d found a wall half buried in the sand to use as a sort of windbreak and leaned into each other for warmth. His lightsaber was the only thing that let them even vaguely see the desert around them. There was no moon, and the stars were gone. Mistakes had, perhaps, been made, and the desert, perhaps, was haunted. Still, it was better ghosts than Death Watch. The ghosts were hopefully not fanatics, if there were any. Obi-Wan deserved for the hypothetical ghosts to not be fanatics. Satine? Death Watch? Qui-Gon’s whole thing for the living force? He deserved at least one non-fanatic in his life- he was kriffing surrounded by them. “Kriff this.” Nobody could scold him on his language, and since it was a.) his emotional state and b.) since nobody heard it it kind of counted as releasing it into the force, it clearly superseded the fact that as a Jedi padawan and ergo representative of the order he wasn’t supposed to swear. 

“Language.” Ah, yes, a kriffing ghost and its horde of ghost friends. Obi-Wan was having a wonderful night, for a given and incredibly dubious definition of wonderful. “What are two aurettiise doing here?” The words were supposed to be menacing. Obi-Wan was definitely aware of this. The issue was that he was infinitely too tired to care. He wasn’t going to respond with sarcasm, though.

“Trying to avoid being murdered, but clearly this may not have been the best place to do that.” He failed in his convictions and responded with sarcasm. This lack of self-control was most unbefitting of a Jedi, and now he simply had to leave the Order. “So, are you going to kill us or can I go back to staring blankly across the desert while regretting most things?” His filter was usually better, as could be easily noted in how he didn’t complain near as much as he used to when Qui-Gon decided to obtain some sort of lethal creature that he would then leave in Obi-Wan’s care. Maybe it was a ghost thing. Maybe it was sleep deprivation. Who could possibly tell? The ghost was tilting its head at him, and then it crouched down on the sand in front of him.

“Jetii.”

“Are the words jetii and auretii related linguistically?” The ghost stared at him in incredulous silence. “It’s a legitimate question.” Some of the ghosts behind it started talking amongst themselves, and Obi-Wan’s lightsaber was slowly pulled closer to his hand, not that it would be useful. While the ghosts deliberated and his lightsaber inched ever closer to his hand, he really couldn’t help but hate the fact that he’d been sucked into a staring contest with a ghost.

“Go to sleep, Jet’ika,” the ghost said when a consensus appeared to have been reached by the other ghosts. “We’ll keep watch.” Obi-Wan most assuredly did not trust potentially murderous ghosts like that, but, Satine had said that it would be more of a wandering in circles through a haunted desert sort of thing as a murder method. This was probably as safe as Obi-Wan would get if he wanted to actually get a chance to sleep through the night. He nodded at the ghost.

“Vor’e,” maybe the Mando’a would increase the odds of survival for him and Satine? Some of the ghosts started up again in the background, but Obi-Wan pushed that out of his mind and did his best to rest. Who knew the next time he’d be able to potentially sleep through the night? It wasn’t that hard to start drifting off to sleep, in the end. There was some not entirely unpleasant feeling being projected from the ghost nearest to him, and that combined with the promise of someone else keeping watch was enough to push him quickly into slumber.


	2. Chapter 2

Normally they rest within the Manda. Their souls are not needed to test and train when there are none passing through their lands, and as time had passed fewer and fewer had come. The last to wander through their lands was Jaster Mereel, and he rang with mandokarla. He walked through and came out unscathed, and when they appeared and spoke to him he listened and learned. He led his people well, and they all mourned when he joined them in the Manda. That is why it was strange when a slow, steady tug, pulled them into the world. Two aurettiise passing through their lands, one a jetii, one dar’Manda. They were pulled into the world, and they watched, leading the two in circles before, as night fell, allowing them to find some level of shelter. Perhaps, if they would somehow prove worthy, they could be led to more generous lodgings, food, weapons. The two seemed to need it. Perhaps- if at least one of them had mandokarla in their soul.

“Kriff this,” the jetii muttered, staring out across the sands of Manda’yaim. He sounded tired- an ad away from his guardian, and with only one who was dar’Manda for company. She slept on, having accepted the jetii’s offer to take watch through the night, heedless of his exhaustion.

“Language.” Ranah spoke, stepping forward from among their numbers, leading into becoming visible, as she so often had in the past. “What are two aurettiise doing here?” An important question, yes, but the other ghosts, the other dead, the other Mand’alors, heard the words that laid under hers: where is your cabur? Jetii or no, no matter the crimes they had done to the Mando’ade, an ad is an ad and should be protected.

“Trying to avoid being murdered, but clearly this may not have been the best place to do that. So, are you going to kill us or can I go back to staring blankly across the desert while regretting most things?” Ranah tilted her head, crouched down in front of him, meeting him on his eye level. He appeared to be pulling his kad closer to him- while it wouldn’t do any good it clearly brough some level of comfort. There was silence as they watched.

“Jetii.” Another fact. Just as important a fact as how the Mando’ade could never truly be killed so long as one survived. Just as important a fact that should the jet’ika’s cabur pass near to any of them he would surely be lost to the world.

“Are the words jetii and aurretii related linguistically?” It was easy to read Ranah’s body language, the slight change to her head tilt, to tell she was trying not to laugh. “It’s a legitimate question.” They began talking among themselves, loud and rapid ancient Mando’a floating between them all. A legitimate question? About Mando’a? Summoning his lightsaber to him, even if it might not work?

Ranah turned for a moment, and with a few gestures she declared that they were going to teach the boy. They would have to be careful- Tarre pointed out. The jetii don’t think like those with the Manda in their souls. One of those who had left, who had joined them from the jetii and had not recanted when placed on trial, pointed out that they were Mando’ade, that Tarre was Mando’ade. They could easily wrap what they wanted to say, wanted to impart, under the guise of ancient jetii teachings. “Haat.”

With that, Ranah returned her attention to the jetii. “Go to sleep, Jet’ika. We’ll keep watch.” He seemed wary, but he still nodded.

“Vor’e.” Surprisingly, given her hatred for the jetiise, her obvious distrust of the jetii’ad, Shae announced that she would wish a role in his training. They all went though and announced that desire, while Ranah smugly watched the ad fade into slumber.

As a whole, they touched the ad’s dreams with the ka’ra, watching them, slipping through memories. It was a gift they had long been blessed with, a gift to aid them in judgement of what they should do with those passing through their land. Not a one thought to look at the sleep of the dar’Manda. The ad had been bullied and shamed and abandoned by his people, had been blamed for things not his fault, had been shunned for following his conscience. He still persisted with his love of the jetii and his love of his buir- and perhaps, should either have showed some worthiness of it it would have been admirable.

He slept on, despite this, unaware of their involvement. His dreams were unrelated to those memories which they had seen and been filled with rage by. He dreamt of his friends, those dear to him. He dreamt on through the night, and although none would harm the ade in their domain, they still kept watch as well. Should those who called themselves Kyr’tsad come near their lands they would find much ill falling upon them. The ill they had done to so many Mando’ade, the poison they and the dar’Manda New Mandolorians had spread across Manda’yaim, It was something that could not be allowed to continue. The ka’ra, though, had not granted them the ability to leave, for all that some of them wished nothing more than to charge out and enforce change. _Soon_ it told them instead. _Soon. Soon. Manda’yaim will once again see your hand in things. Soon. When the time is right._ Until then they could wait, and they could guard the future dar’jetii from what ill dreams may try to haunt him.

When the dar’Manda awoke she tried to wake up her companion, shaking his shoulder, calling him Obi-Wan, who slept on, recovering sleep he so clearly needed. “We need to get going.” She feared them, feared what they may do to her should they not find her worthy. “Obi-Wan.” She grew in fear for him, and so, given her concern for their charge, they allowed him to stir from his slumber.

“Satine?” His eyes were bleary, but he was calm in a way that was not borne of exhaustion. “What’s wrong?”

“You weren’t waking up. You were asleep and weren’t waking up. Look at the sand around us.” She gestured. The dunes had lessened, revealing a path to an abandoned temple. A shelter and a place for teaching.

“That. Might be the ghosts.” Their ad was sheepish, acknowledging their existence when he had claimed them naught but rumor before.

“We need to leave.” The dar’Manda took a moment, forced herself to breathe. “What if they don’t let us go? We aren’t what they would call Mandalorian, Obi-Wan. What if they don’t let us go?”

“They kept watch over us last night, Satine. They likely wouldn’t do that if they were malevolent.” Mandalore the First, one so old zir name had been lost even to zemself, laughed for the first time any of them had heard.

“Follow the path, ade. You will not be harmed.” The two jumped at zir appearance, but, after a moment, Obi-Wan began pulling the dar’Manda along. He did not, perhaps, trust them, but at least he was aware enough to appreciate that if they should wish harm upon the two, they would deliver it outright. “There will be food and shelter at the end.” Ze pushed the two forward, and then faded back to watch.


End file.
